Friend Or Foe
by Satipheen
Summary: What if Katniss had not made that fateful shot that day and Snow's public execution went as planned and Coin survived. The revolution is over but a new battle is about to begin. And what is a war without any games? Katniss/Peeta & other pairings.
1. Prologue

So as per summary Katniss shoots President Snow and not Coin. Coin survives. But all is not as it seems…

The story is a bit slow to start so I hope it isn't too boring and people stick with it.

Constructive criticism is welcome; reviewing is encouraged along with all the rest of the shabang.

Disclaimer; I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters you recognise from it etc.

* * *

_Prologue _

_An eerie quiet stretched on as Katniss Everdeen notched an arrow in her bow. Her face was impassive, her expression calm and collected. She inhaled as she pulled the string back until it was taunt like she had done a thousand times before. To kill a bird as it fled the cover of the bushes after Gale had startled it with a rock or to kill Cato in the arena; what did it matter anymore? _

_Survival had been the spurring force each time. Kill to live. _

_Snow's face leered at her where he sagged against the pole he was tied against. He didn't seem at all afraid to die._

_Katniss inhaled again deeply; the crowd inhaled with her. Coin watched the proceedings closely; eyes trained on Katniss as she lined up the arrow. _

_But Snow's earlier words hiss in her mind, his words falling from his thick lips like poisoned darts; but this time they were that much more deadly. This time they were the truth._

_Katniss' thoughts drifted back to a distant memory. _

_She was in District 13, trying to busy herself anything to keep thoughts of the torture she knew Peeta was enduring out of her mind. She barged into the control room. _

_The guard sighed despondently. He had told her time and time again that she must follow the timetable printed on her arm but Katniss had never paid attention to it. She didn't want to follow the routine of this underground warren where people scurried along artificially bright corridors like rodents, all alike in their uniforms. _

_She wanted to feel the sun on her back, the solid weight of her bow and arrow in her hands, the hum of excitement that would thrum through her blood at the chase. _

_She wanted Peeta. There had to be something they weren't doing._

_The guard opened his mouth to once more direct her back to the hospital ward where she would be out of the way at least if she didn't want to follow her schedule. _

"_It's alright," Plutarch said, dismissing the guard with a wave of his hand._

"_But President Coin said…" the guard had begun._

"_Yes and I said it's alright," Plutarch cut across him. The guard hesitated, glaring at Plutarch and then glancing unsure at Katniss._

_Katniss stood silent and unmoving. _

_Once the guard left Katniss turned to Plutarch._

_He was sitting at the table, a book open before him and a glass of amber liquid and ice in one hand._

_He frowned up at Katniss; clearly displeased that she was making so little effort to be cooperative. _

"_Where's Coin?" Katniss demanded._

_Plutarch's frown deepened as he swirled the liquid in the glass contemplatively._

"_I don't know," Plutarch replied._

"_Have we got anymore news about Peeta?" _

_Plutarch glanced up at her, considering her; there was a hint of pity on his face._

"_No more news," Plutarch finally replied._

"_Well what about the footage we have of him, surely Beetee can find out where it is being sent from and find Peeta with it,"_

_Plutarch finished off his drink in one huge gulp before setting the empty glass down on the table, the ice left rattling with the impact._

"_It doesn't work like that. And even if it did what use would it be to us to know where Peeta is. He is no doubt in the heart of the Capitol somewhere. In other words he is untouchable…as of yet," Plutarch explained._

_Katniss' hands balled into angry fists at her side._

_Plutarch went back to reading his book, though he rapped his nails against the table in a neat drumming rhythm that voiced his irritation. _

_At what though Katniss wasn't sure._

"_You must kill the head," Plutarch murmured. _

_Katniss looked at him perplexed. He didn't seem like he was speaking to her at all but reminding himself of something as his eyes examined the pages before him curiously. _

_Plutarch turned the book to face her, tapping the page._

_Katniss looked at the page and then at Plutarch._

"_It is a lesson that a wise man taught his students... If you walk among the long grasses where snakes lie hidden you may get bitten. If this does occur you must kill the snake immediately, by spearing it through the head or cutting the head off for if you strike any other part of the body you will only injure it and it will surely heal and bite you once again."_

_The wind whistled softly in Katniss' ears. She needed only a second in her head to calculate it as she moved her arrow a fraction to the right so it wouldn't be affected by the breeze._

'_Kill the head'_

_She released the arrow, feeing for a second, the power surge through her arm as the arrow was propelled through the air; fluid, silent and deadly._

_The cheer had gone up before the arrow had even hit its mark. Snow slumped down, the arrow protruding from his chest._

_President Snow; the symbol of all that they had hated was gone. Their liberation felt complete. Some cried, some danced, some tried to get towards the now dead president's body so they could tear it apart like rabid animals._

_Katniss calmly lowered her bow._

_Snow was dead._

_But…he wasn't the head…not anymore. His regime of power had ended the moment the Capitol had been infiltrated. _

_Katniss glanced up and met the cold calculating gaze of President Coin. Coin looked back at her knowingly._

_Katniss walked across the stage. Many called out thanks to her, praising her as their heroine._

_Katniss felt uncomfortable with it. _

_She had killed a man; for at the end of the day although he was a giant in the eyes of others he was only a man, susceptible to the same selfish traits as all other humans._

_Peeta met her as soon as she passed safely through the doors of the Presidential building away from the rejoicing crowds. _

"_You did it," he said, a note of incredulity to his voice as if he didn't quite believe she would do it. Katniss nodded, gripping the bow tighter in her hand. Peeta enveloped her in his arms._

_Katniss returned the gesture after a moment, inhaling deeply. He was dressed in crisp clean clothing and he couldn't have been near a bakery in months and yet Katniss could still catch the scent of freshly baked bread, of mixed paints, of…Peeta. _

_She held him tighter. It didn't matter what they did to him, any of them…Katniss would find him and bring him back, whether it be from the very heart of the Capitol or from the murky depths of his hijacked mind._

_She heard footsteps approaching and she relinquished her fierce hold on Peeta. She knew who it was before he even appeared at her side._

_Haymitch looked at her; his grey eyes surveying her as if for the first time. _

_It was the first time he had looked at her like that; like he couldn't understand her._

"_You did it," Haymitch echoed Peeta's words._

_Peeta threw an arm around Katniss' shoulders, an easy grin on his face. "She did," he confirmed._

_A whole other stampede of footsteps could be heard as Coin having finished giving her liberation speech to the newly freed people of Panem, was coming to congratulate Katniss on a job well done. _

"_Yeah, well I had a little help," Katniss said, meeting Haymitch's eyes she handed him the bow._

_Haymitch took it from her and looked at it. _

_Beetee's work was unmistakable. That bow had been programmed to kill Snow._


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

I'm walking through the same trees again.

It must be the hundredth time I have been here.

I reach out; run my fingertips against the roughness of the barks. The coolness presses against my skin; so real and life-like that I can feel the individual rise and fall of every ridge.

But this isn't real. I know it's not because…I've never been here before.

I have walked through the forest that surrounds my home and I have visited Rue's city hundreds of time with mum, dad and Ethan where the forests seem to stretch on interminably.

But I have never been to this forest before. I am sure of it. I know this forest doesn't exist and that this is just a dream but I can't help but be afraid, terrified.

I am waiting. I am always waiting; sometimes I stay asleep long enough to catch a glimpse of what I'm waiting for, other times I don't.

But I am determined this time. I will find out what happens after the darkness falls.

I jump, startled and almost scream but manage to stifle it in time when it sounds. A hollow booming sound. At first I cannot place it, it seems so strange and yet so familiar and then it comes to me. A cannon.

I can tell when it is about to happen because a strange calm falls over the forest but it is a disconcerting calm, like the still before the storm.

But I will weather this storm…it is just a dream I reassure myself.

A sweat has already broken out all over me as I crouch down with my back to a tree.

I hear them in the distance. Approaching, faster and faster.

I spring to my feet ready to run but I can't my legs won't move, they are stuck, frozen. I try with all my might but it is futile.

I look around me for something, anything to defend myself against…against them.

The ground thunders as they near, the very trees beside me quiver in fear.

My heart is thrashing against my ribcage so hard it is painful; my cries for help are nothing but garbled whimpers caught in my throat.

I am going to die. But I can't; this is just a dream. I can wake up anytime I want…and yet, I can't. I am trapped. Everything seems so real.

I can feel the vibrations of the earth shudder through my whole body so violent that my teeth knock against each other. The wind is cold now; icy, biting. It whips at me and tears at my clothes and my exposed skin.

Suddenly there is a pain in my leg. I look down. It shouldn't be long now, they are nearly here.

My leg has a deep red gash running down my left thigh.

It throbs and with each pulse more red escapes from the ravine gouged into my leg. The pain is unbearable. I scream, this time my voice works, my throat hasn't closed up and swallowed my cries.

My scream echoes of the trees surrounding me; shrill and sharp. They are so close but I can feel it. It looks as though nothing has changed but I can feel it; the wind has eased ever so slightly, I can move my legs just a fraction, the gash in my leg is not so gruesome.

I am breaking though this I think, I just need to keep going.

I suck in a lungful of air and scream again; louder and for longer.

My right leg stumbles forward, dragging my left leg and the rest of my body with it. I blunder around for a moment, my legs unsure beneath me as though I were a puppet. The wind is barely there anymore.

I think if I can just stand, I will be able to run and then I can escape them.

I scream. I know I am alerting them to my position but I get the feeling they already know where I am.

My legs begin to feel more like my own, but the scream dies in my throat as my entire body convulses in fear.

It crashes through the bushes in front of me, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, coated in spittle. Its fur is dark brown, long. It's female; I don't know how I know this but I do. It opens its jaws, the huge red cavern of its mouth able to fit my whole head.

It's over. I know it. I have lost.

I close my eyes, resigned to my fate. I feel its hot breaths wash across my face. I can smell it, the coppery taste of blood that floods my senses; I can almost taste it, bitter and revolting on my tongue. I resist the urge to gag.

I open my eyes one last time…I don't know why. Maybe because I want to know exactly when I am going to meet my end, maybe hoping for a last chance of escape.

And then I see it. Its grey eyes encompass me; I look so small in them. But I recognise those eyes and the horror of that recognition is too much.

I scream and in a last moment of desperation I beat against the monster in front of me. Its jaws close over me and I hear the definitive snap that should signal the end of my life, the severing of my existence but the only sensation I feel is that I can't breathe.

My arms are beating against something and that something is fighting me back.

I struggle to open my eyes, fight against this and then with a last push it is as though I have broken through the surface of a lake.

I splutter and cough, for a moment I think I really must have been in a lake or some kind of water because my lungs burn, my throat feels like sandpaper. I am drenched in my own sweat.

I gulp down the air greedily, glancing about me wildly. Where am I? Slowly the shapes begin to shrug off their shrouds of darkness fading to different shades of grey.

I recognise my desk at the far corner of my room, littered with papers; I see the door, my bed.

"Rose answer me!" Ethan shakes me, hard.

My teeth knock loudly against each other, my head snapping back and forth.

"Ethan stop it!" my head is pounding; my eyes are dry and itching.

Suddenly my room door bursts open and mum and dad tumble into the fray, concern evident on their faces.

Mum approaches me immediately, taking my face in her hands as she scrutinises my face for mark or injury; ever the practical one.

"What happened Ethan? We heard the screaming and the shouting," I hear dad ask Ethan.

Mum finished her assessment and satisfied I have no injuries releases me from her grip.

Her grey eyes flicker over my face worriedly. It makes me shudder and I throw my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder where I can feel hidden and safe.

She holds me tightly and rocks me gently, hushing me softly as I tremble in her arms.

I don't realise I am crying until dad dries the tears from my cheeks.

"Hey there little flower…it was only a bad dream," he smoothes my hair, as mum continues to hold me tightly.

"No one will ever hurt you…either of you," mum holds my gaze for a moment before turning to my older brother.

Ethan stands awkwardly by my bed, looking at the scene before him with a worried expression that he tries to hide behind a look of neutrality. Of course it doesn't work. His emotions are as clear upon his face as his nose is. He could never hide his emotions; just like mum.

"Jeez Ro I thought someone had broken into the house the way you were screaming," Ethan says, trying to sound annoyed.

My tears have stopped now. I feel a lot calmer. The nightmare still lingers at the periphery of my thoughts but it is that…just a nightmare. A figment of my imagination that I have no reason to fear.

I gently lean back from my mum's fierce embrace.

She holds me by the shoulders as she looks over me again, examining my face, checking to make sure I am fine.

I attempt a watery sort of smile. I am better at disguising my emotions than Ethan but I am still practically an open book especially to those that know me well.

"I know it was just a nightmare," I try to reassure her.

Mum smiles at me. Her eyes are warm, caring, loving and the sight comforts me more than any words ever could.

"How about some cocoa?" Dad asks.

I grin. He always knows what to say or do to make it all better.

I nod as mum chuckles under her breath.

"Ethan?" Dad inquires.

"Double strength with cream," Ethan says looking like a businessman demanding his morning coffee fix.

"Yes Mr Mellark, anything else with that sir?" Dad teases.

Mum smiles fondly at them and I giggle. The nightmare is nothing more than a few hazy images clinging to the back of mind now. Here surrounded by my family I feel safe.

We trudge down the stairs, stiff joints and tired limbs finally finding their way back now the excitement is over.

Ethan gives a mammoth yawn almost sending himself tumbling down the stairs but Mum catches him by the scruff of his collar in time.

"Easy there," she warns with a motherly smile.

Ethan gives her a sheepish grin.

We go into the kitchen, dad flicking on the lights. The room is flooded with light immediately, the discarded board game still sitting abandoned at the table.

Dad goes immediately to the cupboards, finding the cocoa powder with ease and getting out four mugs.

Ethan helps him and they chat and tease one another as they go about making the cocoa.

I go over to the table and start clearing away the game, putting the respective pieces neatly back into the box.

Mum slips into the seat next to me, helping me silently.

When we're finished she turns to me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks me quietly. In the background the kettle whistles softly and Dad sets about pouring it into the mugs while Ethan talks animatedly about the upcoming play from school.

I shrug. Usually when I have a nightmare I would go to mum or dad and we would talk it through, breaking it down like a puzzle. Dad would have me laughing and wondering what I ever was afraid of by the end of it and mum would make me feel like nothing could ever harm me while they were near.

But this time it was different.

I knew what that nightmare was and for once mum and dad were the last people I wanted to speak to about it.

Mum looks at me knowingly; I don't need to say anything.

Dad and Ethan come over then armed with two mugs of steaming hot cocoa each and set them down on the table.

We sit at the table sipping on the hot cocoa; it warms me down to my very toes and the sweet taste almost has me lulled back to sleep.

We talk about everything and anything then as the skies outside begin to lighten into early morning, streaked with pinks and peaches.

It reminds me of Dad's paintings that he keeps in the studio upstairs. It is the best room in the house for painting as it has windows facing the east and the west, meaning sunset or sunrise Dad can capture it all with a few seemingly effortless strokes of his paintbrush.

Ethan tells Mum and Dad about the school play this year.

"Oh and what's it called?" Mum asks.

"Animal Farm, it's actually a book by a man called Orson Wells," I tell them.

"Yes but Mayor Silverland has commissioned Mr. Libre to make it into a play, seeing as he is head of drama and all," Ethan adds.

"And are you auditioning for any parts?" Dad asks as he begins to clear away the mugs.

"Napoleon," Ethan jumps in eagerly.

Mum and Dad chuckle slightly. Ethan even though he is two years older than me and will be 17 this year he still gets excited over things like he is a five year old.

"And what about you Ro?" Dad asks, as he places the mugs in the sink.

I squirm a little in my seat. I do like acting, it's just…well, to be honest I'm not that good at it.

"I was thinking I might do stage help or…or maybe I could do the artist's work, you know paint the scenes for the background,"

Mum nods encouragingly.

"Of course and your dad could help you with that," Mum adds.

I nod, relieved.

Ethan is a natural on the stage; for the past three years running he has been the lead in all the school plays. It doesn't matter what the character is, as soon as he is under that spotlight he becomes them.

I remember when we put on Romeo and Juliet last year half the audience were so much in tears when he died that they didn't even notice Juliet wake up and then kill herself. I think he even had Lily Hansley who played Juliet convinced he was in love with her.

Mum says he got his stage skills from my dad, I suppose I missed out on those. But there are some things I inherited of my dad.

I can paint, and not just pretty sunsets but I mean I can really paint even if I am boasting. Ethan's idea of art is a few stick people.

I prefer to paint; it's a sort of solitary sort of contentment but in the end I can stand back and admire my work unlike Ethan because as Ethan puts it he is "living art".

I can hear the happy chatter of the birds start up outside as the morning sunrise just begins to bathe everything in a soft golden light.

Distantly the birds melodies are interrupted by a loud smash that has them squawking loudly in alarm. Ethan and I share a snigger and even Mum and Dad have bemused smiles as Dad shakes his head.

"You think Haymitch would just move rooms," I remark as I glance out the window across the square to Haymitch's house.

The top left window is wide open, the curtains streaming out of it pulled by the breeze and right above the window in the corner of the roof can be seen what looks like a tuft of grass or twigs poking out over the gutter.

"He keeps saying he is going to shoot down their nest one day but he never seems to get around to it," Ethan says.

I laugh and somewhere along the way the laugh turns into a yawn. I try to strangle the yawn but I can't. The tiredness has crept up on me again…I'm exhausted.

Dad glances over to me, "Maybe you should go back to bed, eh Ro?"

I nod, admitting defeat as I can feel my own eyelids grow heavy.

Mum looks meaningfully across at Ethan and with an exaggerated huff he gets to his feet.

"Come on Ro, I'll tuck you in," he teases.

"Please I don't want any more nightmares," I reply.

Dad chuckles and Mum catches my eye.

I smile and she nods in understanding our silent conversation over.

After wishing mum and dad a goodnight or rather a good morning I climb the stairs tiredly, trailing behind Ethan.

We have just reached the top and I am about to turn and tell Ethan that he really doesn't need to bring me right into my bed when Ethan puts a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

I frown. I am too tired for this. What is he doing?

Stealthily like a hunter Ethan begins to creep down the stairs again. Curiously I follow him, keeping close to the wall to avoid the creaking of the stairs.

The light from the kitchen still spills out into the hallway and I can hear the flow of water as either Mum or Dad wash the mugs.

Ethan slinks right up until he is at the kitchen door. I open my mouth to demand what he is doing, but he shakes his head vehemently and so I go and stand beside him at the other end of the door.

Mum and Dad are still in the kitchen. Mum is humming, I recognise the tune, she would always sing it to me when I was younger and she would tuck me in at nights.

I muster up my darkest glare and look across at Ethan. He ignores me as we stand here waiting.

I shiver a little, trying to quietly shift from one foot to the other. I pull at a loose thread on my pyjama top. When mum and dad start speaking I almost jump out of my skin. Ethan rolls his eyes at me.

"Never mind Haymitch moving rooms you would think the birds would go elsewhere," Dad says. He must be standing at the window; his voice is further away.

Mum laughs softly; she is closer. She must still be at the table or at the sink.

"Peeta…" Mum begins, her voice is measured as though she is about to say something that she has said before and by dad's response it seems many times.

"No Katniss, they're not going," dad replies firmly.

I look at Ethan confused but he is too busy concentrating on eavesdropping to pay any attention to me.

A tense silence fills the air for a few moments as I can hear the soft gurgling as the sink is emptied.

"District 10 would be safer for them," Mum finally says and I hear Dad sigh deeply.

District 10? I think for a moment, my sleep-riddled thoughts stumbling over one another clumsily before it comes to me. Rue. The City of Rue; that's it. We had learnt in school about how Panem used to be divided, places known as nothing but Districts with a number attached.

After the revolution they had been given proper names as decided by the people, but it still seemed strange to hear mum call it District 10. It was so easy to forget that mum and dad had grown up in a practically different world.

"Sending them to District 10 is dangerous…especially now," dad explains.

"No more dangerous than bringing them with us," mum's voice rises a little as her patience wears thin.

"I would rather have them by our side, where at least we can see with our own eyes that they are safe," dad replies.

My heart is thumping as my thoughts race. What are mum and dad talking about? Surely they can't mean Ethan and me? Why would they be sending us to Rue during the school holidays? When mum and dad had to go away on business we always stayed with our relatives the Mellarks or Grandma Everdeen.

"I don't want them to have to experience …_that," _Mum replies quietly.

Dad sighs and relents. I tense as I hear his footsteps cross the room, but he doesn't come near the door.

I hear a soft rustle and then Dad speaks quietly again, "I know…let's get some rest before the kids are up again, we'll talk about it more…"

Ethan starts to move away from the door. I follow him silently, as I once more ascend the stairs. We reach the landing and Ethan makes to go on down to his room but I grab his sleeve.

He turns to me. I'm normally not one for confrontation but I know he can see my expression; I am not going to let this go.

Ethan rolls his eyes as I point at my room but he follows me obediently into it and I close the door behind us.

I wait a moment to see if dad and mum are going to come up but all is more or less quiet so I flick the light switch.

We both squint a little after crouching for so long in the darkness listening our eyes are unprepared for the sudden onslaught.

Ethan plops himself down on the chair by my desk, swivelling it inanely as I stand trying to organise the chaos of questions swarming about in my head.

I stomp over to him determinedly, reaching out my hand to stop his spinning. Ethan looks up at me; he is already squirming a little. Good.

Ethan obviously knows something I don't and I'm going to find out.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two;

"What was that about with mum and dad?" I whisper furiously, but I can't help the note of worry that colours my tone.

Ethan stands brushing by me, going over to the bookshelves on my wall, pretending to examine the titles on the spines of the age old weathered books.

Apparently after the revolution whole storerooms of things had been found hidden in the bowels of what had been known then as the Capitol. Whole rooms filled with books by people no one had heard of before, maps and reels of footage showing strange and wonderful things.

Ethan takes a book from the shelf and begins to flick through the pages. I don't need to be able to read the title; I recognise the tattered green cover with the faded gold lettering anywhere. Aesop's Fables. Mum had presented it to me when she and dad had returned from their last business.

"Ethan?" I prompt, folding my arms.

Ethan recognising that he can delay the inevitable no longer shuts the book and returns it to the shelf, turning to face me.

"You heard the same as I. Mum wants to send us to Rue," Ethan says with a careless shrug.

I falter. He says it as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

"But…why?" I stammer.

Ethan shrugs and begins to walk over to my door.

"No wait!" I call. Ethan turns.

"You know more, I know you do!" I accuse.

Ethan sighs, looking for all the world like Dad.

"It's complicated," Ethan says.

I bristle. Now he is just being annoying. I hate it when he does this. He is only two years older and yet he acts as though he is decades wiser than me.

Ethan studies me for a moment and then he seems to have made a decision. Ethan goes and flops down on my chair again and I perch myself on the edge of my bed facing him.

My stomach flips a little nervously. Ethan doesn't look so careless anymore. He looks worried.

"What is it?" I ask quietly.

"Mum wants us to go to Rue – District 10 as she calls it," Ethan echoes his earlier words.

I nod waiting for him to continue.

"She thinks it will be safer for us there," he adds.

I frown in confusion. "Why?"

"You know mum and dad's 'business'?" something about the way Ethan says the word 'business' makes me feel suddenly queasy.

I nod again, albeit hesitantly this time. I am not so sure I do know about mum and dad's business anymore.

Mum and Dad's business requires them to travel to Liberation City; in school we learnt that it used to be the Capitol, where President Snow and the others before him had carried out their tyrannical rule over the districts but after the revolution President Coin had amalgamated District 13 and the Capitol to make Liberation City.

"In Liberation City?" I inquire cautiously.

Ethan nods in confirmation and leans forward, his blue-silver eyes bright as he licks his lips. There is an air of nervousness and excited anticipation about him as he fixes me with his gaze.

"President Coin wants us to go with Mum and Dad this time… to Liberation City… on their business," Ethan speaks in a rush.

It takes me a minute to digest the information. Go to Liberation City? Sure I had seen footage of Liberation City and seen posters and the such but go…neither Ethan nor I had ever been to Liberation City.

As a young girl I remember I used to beg mum and dad to take me with them but each time the answer was always no until finally I had stopped asking.

"How do you know this?" I asked after a moment.

Ethan grinned.

"I was here when they called. I listened in on the phone in the study," he says almost proudly.

I gasp sharply. "So you do listen in on people's conversations!" I exclaim horrified.

Ethan rolls his eyes, "Don't worry I won' tell Leo that you think his 'eyes remind you of the setting sun.'"

I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment as I cringe recognising my own words. "That was a private conversation!" I say, scowling as I swipe a pillow from the bed and throw it at his head.

It only makes Ethan laugh more as I sit sulking on the bed.

After a moment Ethan stops, his face thoughtful again.

"No but seriously Ro…Liberation City?"

I can't help but feel a swell of excitement rise inside me at the prospect that crashes to the ground in a moment.

"Mum doesn't want us to go," I say.

Ethan's face falls for a moment. We both know it would be near impossible to convince mum that we should go if she has made her mind up about it and besides we aren't even meant to know about it.

Ethan chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Why is she so against us going?" I voice our thoughts aloud.

"Mum and Dad keep mentioning it being too dangerous or something," Ethan says, looking as perplexed as I am.

I sigh, picking once more at the loose thread of my top, causing it to unravel anymore. Well that was a short-lived dream I think.

"It's not fair, we should be allowed to go and how can Mum and Dad say no to President Coin's invitation?" Ethan says, getting to his feet to pace the room agitatedly.

I glance up at him and frown. "I'm sure mum and dad have their reasons," I answer him. I look down again and click my tongue; I've made a hole in my top now.

Looking up my eyes land on my alarm clock. "EEK!"

"Ro?" Ethan asks as I begin to whip back the covers and dive under them.

"6:30! 6:30 AM! I have to be up by eight. I will be sleeping standing up at school if I don't get some sleep now," I say, pulling the covers up over me and shutting my eyes.

"Did you forget Ro? No school today – it's the holidays. We're off school for another two weeks," Ethan says.

"Yeah you might be but I agreed to go in and help Mr. Libre with preparations for the play seeing as I don't plan to be in it," I grumble.

"Fine then," Ethan says huffily as I effectively blank him out as I turn my back on him.

Ethan leaves the room, turning the light out as he goes.

I groan into my pillow; this is not a good start for a busy day.

…

In the morning it is not the familiar whining of my alarm clock that wakes me but a gentle yet insistent shaking of my shoulder.

I groan miserably as I blink open my eyes blearily.

Light assaults my senses, blinding and bright. The next thing to filter through is the smell of something sweet, it takes me a moment to place it but finally I do.

My eyes stay open long enough to decipher the scene in front of me. Mum sits on my bed, looking down at me with a kind smile. Her hair falls over her shoulder in its familiar braid and her grey eyes are bright.

I can smell the warm leather of her hunting jacket.

Mum had once tried to take me hunting but I had ended up shooting Mayor Silverland's dog as he walked it.

Luckily the wound was only superficial and I was able to stitch it up easily enough. However Patch as he is now called given that hair no longer grows over that particular spot where my arrow hit always gives me a wide berth when he sees me.

We decided that I was better suited to extracting arrows rather than firing them.

Dad always said that I took my 'healing gift' after my Aunt Prim; my mum's sister. I never met her; she was killed in the revolution as she tried to help.

Mum has always said she would be proud of me no matter what I did. I think she didn't want me to feel like I had to enter into the healing line of work so that I could uphold some family legacy or to try and please her.

But the thing is I like it. Grandma Everdeen and I could sit for hours talking about the best poultice to prepare for an open wound or the best method to splint a broken limb. Sometimes even mum would join in.

There is a satisfaction in knowing that I can help people, in knowing that I am useful.

On my 13th birthday when mum could see that I was serious about pursuing a career in it she presented me with a book of her own creation with dad's help.

It was an extensive catalogue of possibly every useful plant for medicine and even contained a list at the back that warned against plants to stay away from. Dad had drawn the pictures in such finite detail that the images looked almost real. She said that I could add to it what I saw fit and hopefully it would be of use to me.

It is one of my most treasured possessions and holds the coveted position on my topmost bookshelf.

"Hey little flower," Mum flicks the end of my nose bringing me out of my daydream that I was really just falling asleep again.

I open my eyes again, propping myself up on one elbow as I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

"Your dad sent you up one of his sweet buns and I made you a cup of sweet tea…just as you like it," Mum tucks an unruly lock of hair behind my ear.

I look at the bun sitting so temptingly on my dresser and then…oh my! My eyes fall on my alarm clock. I must have slept right through it!

I leap out of bed, yelping when I stump my toe on the chest of drawers. I limp around my room as fast as I can, gathering up the first clothes that come to my hand out of the wardrobe.

"Ro?" Mum calls, perplexed.

"I need to get ready…mum," I charge into the bathroom, hitting the sink like a tornado, brush, wash, rinse. I run back into my room. "I told Mr Libre I would help out with the preparation for the play but I need to be at the school by quarter to nine!"

Mum glances at the alarm clock, immediately realising my predicament. I have ten minutes!

I throw on the skirt, zipping it up as I hop around in one boot looking for the other.

"Ro?" Mum calls.

I whip around almost losing my balance. She stands holding out the other boot.

I look at her gratefully before taking it and shoving it on hastily.

I am never going to make it!

I struggle with my top for a few moments, tugging at it blindly until mum has to help me as though I were a young child.

"Slow and steady wins the race," she tells me. I recognise the lesson from the book she gave me and smile.

I grab my bag that sits at the end of my bed; no time to check everything is there now, hopefully luck is on my side.

I am about to race out the door when Mum calls me back.

I pause at the threshold of the door, bouncing on my toes. "Mum I reallllyy have to go…" I urge.

She tosses the bun to me and I catch it just in time.

"Not without breakfast," she says.

I throw one last grin at her over my shoulder before I race for the stairs, thundering down them and jumping the last three.

I almost land on my face but manage to steady myself.

I race by the mirror in the hall and then back-pedal for a moment to check my reflection.

My hair is still in the braid I wear at nights which is one good thing because even on a good day my hair is barely manageable.

I tuck a few unruly strands behind my ears; well it will have to do, I have no time anyway.

I throw myself out the front door, racing down the path. I have less than five minutes to get to the school.

I bolt across the square heading for the city centre. School is only ten minutes away, I'm lucky in that when they were rebuilding Mum and Dad's old home of District 12 they made sure the Victor's Village was close to the centre of town and hence everything.

I rush by the shop fronts, pushing past the people as I mutter apologies. I dart across the town centre, past the fountain that holds a monument to coal miners.

I'm already starting to get a stich in my side I think miserably. Just what I needed.

I take the sharp right corner that will lead me directly to the school when I smack head on into someone.

I land with a very painful thump on my posterior, the sweet bun that I still had flying out of my hand.

I flame red in embarrassment, "I am so sorry, I was rushing…" I begin to stammer out an apology when my words trail off to nothing.

"Don't worry about it, you were in a hurry, I was in the way," his hazel eyes are warm as he grins at me and I feel myself melt like butter under his gaze.

Leo gets to his feet, offering me a hand to help me up with it.

I accept it, trying not to look too eager and reminding myself to let go off his hand.

I shyly tuck my hair behind my ear as I smile up at him. I'm sure Mr Libre won't mind if I am a little late. But why…today of all days when my appearance is the result of five minutes did I have to run into Leo Edwards…literally.

"So where are you rushing off to?" Leo asks me casually. His eyes travel over me as he looks at me strangely.

"Nowhere…erm I mean there, the building…school. School…that's where I'm going," I mentally slap myself.

Leo chuckles. "Today? But isn't it a holiday?" he asks.

I grin and laugh a little with him and then realise I have to answer his question. Mental slap two.

"Yea but me and a few others are helping out Mr Libre with preparations for the play," I explain.

"Ah right…oh so costumes!" recognition flickers across his ridiculously handsome face.

I nod inanely.

"Well I won't keep you then, good luck and erm…have fun," he calls back to me as he starts to walk away waving back.

I wave back a little too enthusiastically but it's too late Leo is already around the corner. Mental slap Three; and she's out.

I groan as I begin to trudge my way towards the entrance to the school…late.

I make my way silently along the eerily deserted corridors until I get to Mr Libre's classroom.

I pause hearing muffled voices on the other side of the door.

Great; they have already started.

I knock on the door tentatively, popping my head into the classroom; ready with an apologetic smile.

Eight heads swivel to look at me and I feel another hot blush creep up my cheeks.

"Miss Mellark how nice of you to join us," Mr Libre says, but there is no malice in his voice.

He gestures for me to come in and take a seat at the circle of chairs that have been roughly pulled together and everyone turns back to the bulky wads of paper in their hands.

I slip into the empty seat beside Mimi, and she pushes one of the wads of paper into my hands.

I look down at it and groan. The script.

Mr Libre is a brilliant director, choreographer, stage manager, lighting director and overall fantastic teacher but he just cannot summarise to save his life.

I try to subtly flick through the pages that are filled with text. I think he may have managed to make his script longer than the actual Animal Farm book.

It is going to be a long morning.

The hours drag by; painfully, slowly and without mercy. Finally it hits 1:00 and Mr Libre thanks us profusely for our help in going through the whole script with him and summarising it.

Us seven veterans stagger out into the daylight again.

"This is how they must have felt after the revolution…free at last!" Aaron, a boy whose father runs the clothing store in the centre jokes as he races out the front gates.

Me and Mimi laugh as we amble out the school gates after him.

"How are the costumes coming along?" I ask Mimi. Mimi for as long as I have known her has always been in charge of costumes, it was how we met actually.

It was my first year designing the backgrounds for the scenes. We were presenting 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. I had been nervous about it and dad and I had spent half the previous night mixing up hundreds of concoctions of paint for the woodland scene I would have to create.

It turned out brilliantly even if I do say so myself.

It was just a few hours until show time and I had been walking down the corridor to the main hall where the stage was because I wanted to look over my work and add a few finishing touches, having spent half the morning mixing a bucket of glitter with clear glue.

Unfortunately I wasn't looking were I was going and I tripped coming down the stairs chucking the whole pot over Mimi, myself and half the costumes.

It turns out that it was the best mistake possible; everyone commented how the fairies costumes were simply superb and asked Mimi how she got them to sparkle; even the actors and actresses were impressed.

And ever since then myself and Mimi had been best friends; that was five years ago and we still laugh about it even now. They still have a photograph up under the label of 'backstage magic fairies'; and me and Mimi are grinning at the camera covered from head to toe in glitter.

"I was about to ask you, seeing as it seemed you were already wearing one," Mimi replied, casting a look down at me.

I glanced down at myself wondering what on earth she could mean, and then I see and I blush scarlet red.

"Oh come on Ro, you know I was only teasing," Mimi reassures.

"No wonder he was looking at me so strangely!" I wail and here I was thinking that despite the slightly awkward conversation that I might have gotten away with pummelling him to the ground this morning.

"Who?" Mimi demands completely perplexed.

"Leo," I answer miserably.

"Leo Edwards?" Mimi asks excitedly.

I nod morosely, looking down once more at the disaster.

She follows my gaze and smiles in understanding, looping a companionable arm through mine as we walk towards the fountain.

I pick at one of the holes that completely litter my green jumper, even the bottom and the cuffs are frayed from where I pull at the loose threads.

"It's not that bad," Mimi tries to reassure me.

I look at her deadpan. The only thing that could be possibly good about this situation is that I remembered to put a white undershirt under my jumper this morning in my rush, because wool always makes me itch.

Other than that…it is a disaster.

"He mentioned costumes," I remember, only now I know only too clearly what he meant.

"Well that's good," Mimi pipes up.

"Good. How can that possibly be good?" I ask.

"He thinks you were wearing a costume," Mimi says with a smile.

I grumble, conceding her point as I pick at one of the holes again.

It's a bad habit I have; a truly horrendous one actually that always lands me in circumstances like today. Whenever I'm nervous, bored, annoyed or simply out of distraction I can't help but pull at loose threads on my clothing, so that most my clothes are frayed or falling apart and unravelling, covered in holes.

Mimi laughs good-naturedly as she swats my hands away from picking at the ever widening holes.

"Ah Rose Mellark; my loose thread."


End file.
